Mithras
by ALaidBackAuthor
Summary: Fading as a result of his cult's extinction and his having been forgotten, Mithras the Roman god of war must take the place of Ares to survive. The Titan Lord can give him the power necessary to achieve his aim, but Cronos wants something in return . . .
1. Chapter 1

Mithras

It lay before him. The blue-white pool of boiling water and searing bubbles. He was ready to take the dive, the plunge that would lead to the realisation of all his dreams; the step that would bring him ultimate fulfilment. Mithras gazed around the dark cavern. The spring was the only source of light. The walls had cracked and eroded with age. Even now the place intimidated him. The black walls gave him the feeling that there was a darker, higher entity watching him where he stood, whose silent assent was the only reason he was still alive. The idea was preposterous, of course, being insusceptible to death, but the grim possibility . . . the very idea that it had occurred to him gave him chills.

Mithras looked back for the last time and plunged into the pool. Immediately the force of whatever was on the other side of the tunnel pulled at him without discrimination. How it had come to this . . . . How a Roman god would be reduced to needing a Greek form. It baffled him that the general population favoured the Greeks to the Romans. And now the only way to ensure his continuous existence would be to defeat the Greek war god, Ares, and assume his identity. How fitting. To use any other god would lead to the creation of multiple personalities. Mithras was a war god. He must use a war god. Would it work? It must! He hadn't come all the way to Tartarus - the underbelly of all life - for failure! He saw a spark of light. There was a rush of wind and speed and then - he was on the floor. The Ancient Lands were far behind him now. There was nothing he could control here. He was hopelessly powerless. Around him stretched an expanse of desert, the sand a raw red and the wind scorching. He took a step forward. Immediately there was a disturbance in the environment. The wind got hotter and writhed itself into the shape of a man.

"Turn back now, Roman god. The Titan you seek is beyond you. Lord Saturn has an eternity to suffer for his crimes."

"I seek audience with him as directed by Jupiter. I trust you are Lelantos?"

"I am," the wind Titan replied skeptically.

"Jupiter, or Zeus, I should say, sent me down here to negotiate a deal for the release of the Titans. If all goes well, you'll no longer have to stand guard over anyone's prison."

"Is it true?" Lelantos could not conceal his joy at Mithras' lie.

"Would I come all the way here to trick you?"

"Very well, you may pass," Lelantos stepped aside, still wearing the grin, visible even as he faded back to scorching wind.

Mithras took a step forward. As expected, the ground before him gave way. He fell into a cell. Gazing up at the circular hole above, he said a silent prayer to a higher power before looking down. There sat a thin figure. His head rested on his knees, his arms lay limply on cold ground. He had once been powerfully built. All there was as proof of his former status was his beautiful, flowing, white hair and beard. Without raising his head from the knees of his brown jumpsuit, he said, "You are dressed like a mortal, yet you are a Roman god. Powerful, yes, but likely to fade on account of ignorance."

"Saturn. Or is it Cronus at the moment?"

"What does it matter?" he lifted his head to show cracks around the ancient, bright gray eyes.

"I am Mithras," the Roman stepped closer. "You have correctly guessed my dilemma. I have come here to strike a deal for both our benefits."

Cronus stared for a while, sizing Mithras up, then said, "You want my power. You want to use my power to defeat the war god, Ares. Then you can ensure your sustenance. I also see that you know I won't give it out freely. You are prepared to destroy the Olympians for me."

"I am, Lord Saturn."

"Well, I won't give out my reserves to you immediately. I must be sure it's a worthwhile investment. But do you really need me to beat Ares?"

"The other gods will come to his aid," said Mithras. "I must be able to defend myself from them."

"I see . . . well, go back up there and prove your worth. Cause chaos for the Olympians, and I will give you what is necessary to deal a death stroke."

"I'll make you see, Titan Lord, that Mithras is a force to be reckoned with."

"Then do so," Cronus waved a hand lazily and Mithras found himself being sucked through the pool, back to Tartarus, away from Cronus' unenviable prison.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or HO.

Kindly read and review. Flames allowed. Hope you enjoy it, guys!

Mithras 2

The war god wasted no time. The Titan Lord, he knew, was highly impatient. Cronus would not take kindly to delay. He headed back to his stronghold in the Ancient Lands. As he flew, wind whipping against his hair and pulling at his trench coat from behind, he could smell victory in the sharp, humid air. A plan had started forming in his mind. Cronus wanted him to prove his worth? That was exactly what he was going to do. The Iberian Peninsula was visible just over the horizon. He'd have to cloak himself. With a thought he'd transformed himself into a flock of wild birds and sped on. Why had the Greeks chosen to settle in the New World? Didn't they realise how moronic the whole idea of shifting divine power along with that of the mortals was? But then they were Greeks. This shouldn't be altogether surprising. Not at all . . .

Mithras swooped down low as he entered the Ancient Lands. Mt. Vesuvius was just visible beyond the city of Naples. Perhaps he should agitate the ethereal forces and cause an eruption to wipe out the city. To bring it down the way Pompeii had crumbled. No, he decided. He had much better things to do. And he'd best start immediately. Coagulating into his normal form, he walked straight through the old, withering rock that formed the base of the volcano. He reveled in the wave of heat that washed over him. He found the hidden door and opened it, revealing the flight of stairs that led underground, under the volcano. Taking them two at a time, he arrived at the vast atrium. A statue of himself depicting his creation stood at the centre of the room. The marble figure showed clearly a man's feet sunken in rock, holding a dagger in a jabbing motion, in his other hand a torch. Mithras, born from the rock, holding a dagger to smite his enemies and a torch to show the truth and to conquer darkness. His eyes lingered on it for a moment, then he turned to face one of the seven corridors leading away from the room. "Artemisia," he said. Turning to face the opposite corridor he said, "Bob."

There was a lot of creaking in the walls, then two clay figures, one from each corridor to which he'd spoken, came marching towards him. The first was a woman dressed in a dark tank top with a criss-cross design over a pair of very tight black jeans. Her hair was tied back in a bow-like plait, revealing a thin and passably beautiful Middle-Eastern face. There was a long, sharp-looking spear strapped to her back whose tip glinted in the semi-darkness. The second figure was male, well over nine feet tall and built like a truck. He had dirty blond hair and two parallel scars running down the length of each arm. He was wearing a singlet that outlined his abs, and a pair of gym shorts.

"I have a job for you two," said Mithras.

"Again? Oh, man, I thought you'd brought us some pizza! And a couple of cokes."

"We are at your disposal," said Artemisia, ignoring her companion.

"You will both journey across the Atlantic tomorrow to the camp where the Greek demigods live. Do as much damage as you can, and don't fear to take life. Only stop when I arrive," Mithras instructed.

"Is there nothing you seek from this camp?" Artemisia asked.

"No. These are my full instructions. It's is to serve simply as a diversion. I must have one god in isolation. One god to defeat, who will be the instrument that gives us success. I intend to use Bacchus."

"Um . . . the wine dude? Even I could take 'im," said Bob.

"It is all part of my plan. You are not to engage Bacchus, or rather, Dionysus, since this is a Greek camp."

"Your orders are clear," Artemisia bowed.

"And you?" Mithras turned to Bob.

"Yeah. Can we stop for pizza on the way back?" Bob's eyes lit up.

Mithras turned, exited through one of the corridors.

"We should best get ready, don't you think?" asked Artemisia.

"Well . . . nah! Not really feeling up to it, but you go ahead!" Bob slapped her on the back, a gesture meant to be motivational but which made her double over.

"I forget who I'm dealing with," Artemisia sighed as she made her way to the arena. It was time to see if she couldn't get familiar with the double blades.

Due largely to the Capture the Flag game they'd had the previous evening, half the camp woke up late the next day, and the other half didn't wake until mid day. For Alex it had been particularly rough. Clarisse had decided to betray the red team halfway through the game, leaving Cabin 5 largely divided. Alex, not knowing which Ares camper was on his side, had attacked and defeated any who came across his path. Good news: the read team had won. Bad news: Alex had been ambushed on his way back to Cabin 5, and although it was all good fun, his shoulder still felt sore from Sherman's 'friendly' tap with the electric spear. Alex had tried to downplay it, but man, had it hurt! He'd just have to figure out a way to pay them back in their own coins without the freaks knowing. As he made his way towards the creek, arms folded and a sword strapped at his back, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread; as though something bad would happen today. Maybe it was an effect of the spear bite, which still stung, by the way. The woods got thicker as he made his way along, then without warning, something dropped right before him. Instinctively he reached for his jagged-edged sword and stood in defensive position. He prodded the dark, winged figure. It was a harpy. A dead harpy? That was as scary as it was strange. He looked around. No sign of movement. Surely it must have - he sniffed the suddenly thick air. Sulphur. He looked up.

"Oh, my gods!"

A ball of flame the size of a battle tank was flying toward the camp. It zoomed over Alex with the speed of a bullet. A second later there was a deafening bang, immediately accompanied by radiation so severe it swept him off his feet and crashed him into a tree. Slightly dazed, he stood and rushed to the impact zone. It had hit the Arena. Alex saw campers littered around, now recovering, like he had, from the - whatever it was. He made his way into the Arena. Standing in the middle were two figures. One was a woman in a black tank top, black jeans and spiked, red combat boots. She unstrapped from her back a spear worthy of Ares. Her companion looked like Terminator, only more ripped and at least twice as tall. His blond hair was matted and had dark highlights. Or was that filth? Or maybe it was just the way his hair was?

"I am Artemisia, Queen of Halicarnassus and a commander in the Persian armies of Xerxes the Great, son of Darius and Atossa! I am here to raze your camp! Prepare, heroes, for death!"

"I'm Bob!" her companion stepped forward and flexed his muscles. "I will eat all your pizza and drink all your cokes!"

Artemisia glared at Bob.

"And . . . uh, whatever she said."

"Oh, forget it!" she held out her spear which promptly turned into a bow and pulled the string. A flaming arrow appeared. She let fly. If Alex hadn't expected this attack, he'd have been dead. He dived out of the way just in time. Then he heard a zoom of impossible speed, felt a hand grab him and fling him. He crashed onto the roof of the Demeter Cabin. Getting down, he rushed forward. Alex swung his sword at Bob, who parried lazily with a hand, then kicked Alex, sending him crashing to the ground with a tonne of force. Most campers were now realising the danger and assembling weapons to counter. A wave of water crashed into Bob, accompanied by quick jabs at his calf. Percy Jackson. But Bob picked him up like a pencil and threw him into the fountain in the middle of the cabins. Meanwhile Artemisia was sending arrows in all directions, burning up the surrounding area and lighting up the Hera Cabin.

"You fucking bitch!" Clarisse yelled as she rushed, throwing half a dozen spears at once. Like a cat, Artemisia sleekly dodged and returned fire.

Alex swung and swung but seemed to be doing no good. Bob was as invincible as a fortress. "Must eat pizza!" he chanted as he bore down and attempted a strike. Alex rolled out of the way and stabbed his arm with the sword. He lifted the arm with sword, Alex still holding onto the hilt. Gaining momentum, he swung his body and hit Bob with all his weight. Bob stumbled back, then flung an arm to send Alex crashing into Cabin 10. There was a lot of screaming as the girls took cover to avoid Bob who broke rest of the door Alex had crashed through and said, "Pretty ladies! But no pizza!" his face fell. "Oh, well!" he shrugged and came lumbering at Alex.

"Wait!" Alex held out an aching arm. "You want pizza, we keep it in the Big House! Up in there!" he pointed towards the top right window of the large building where he was sure Dionysus took his afternoon naps. "It's all there!"

"Oh, goodie!" Bob forgot Alex and squatted, gaining enough power to launch himself into the air and crash through Mr D's windows.

"What in Zeus' name?" Alex heard the wine god shout.

"I must eat PIZZA!" Bob screamed manically.

"You're a fool!"

There was a burst of orange light accompanied by what Alex was sure was the sound of six tigers mauling a vine-bound fellow. That was the last he saw of Bob.

Mr D burst through the front doors of the Big House. "What is going on?"

"Mr D," Alex began as a handful of campers came running towards where Artemisia must be, brandishing weapons, "there's this Artemisia woman destroying the camp! You've gotta stop her!"

"Where's she?" asked Dionysus lazily.

"Over at the infirmary," Alex guessed.

"Too far," said Mr D as he turned and went back into the house.

"Mr D, if you don't -"

"Try not to give me a temper, demigod. Aren't you so-called heroes meant for this sort of thing?"

"Damn it!" Alex fumed as he charged towards the infirmary, jagged sword in his right hand, an abandoned electric spear in his left.

Artemisia was fighting and beating camper butt all over the place. Now she was dueling Annabeth who couldn't match her ferocity. Percy was still passed out at the fountain.

"Annabeth!" Alex shouted, hoping she'd get it.

Her face met his as she swung to avoid a deadly blow, and they nodded each other's understanding. Annabeth dived and took off in one direction with Artemisia in hot pursuit. As she nocked an arrow to shoot at Annabeth, Alex threw the spear. Artemisia caught it with little effort, and said, "You can't sneak on me," smiling.

"I don't have to," Alex smirked.

At the same moment the electric charge detonated, releasing unending sparks and sending Artemisia into an epileptic death fit. Her body blackened. The queen was no more.

Alex took in a heavy breath. Annabeth came running towards the fountain to Percy. Clarisse was yelling curses angrily at her failure to destroy Artemisia. Some campers lay wounded on the ground. Alex, along with some others, helped then to the infirmary, then he returned to see how much damage had been done. Cabin 2 lay half burnt, Cabin 4 would leak seriously if there was rain, Cabin 8 was a mess of debris, Cabin 10 looked like Zeus had thrown a tantrum in there, and all the other cabins each had at least one battle scar. Just as Alex was about to call it an afternoon and go to the Ares Cabin, there was a bright flash of silver and Artemis appeared, looking highly displeased. Other bright blazes signaled the appearance of the other Olympians.

"What happened here?" Zeus looked around, smoothing out his suit.

"My cabin!" Hera yelled, visibly fighting the temptation to pull at her hair.

Poseidon wasted no time going to find Percy. No doubt they had a telepathic link. Ares took off his glasses when he spotted Alex. He beckoned him over with his finger clandestinely.

"Oh, my dears," Aphrodite crooned, audible from Cabin 10, "I hope no one's hurt."

"I see you got the better of Mr Freakshow and his hit girl," Ares said when Alex arrived.

"I only tricked Bob. Artemisia was tag-team between Annabeth and myself," Alex said. It was hard staring into those sun-like eyes. Ares must've read his mind, because he put the glasses back on before replying, "Modesty. That's good. You know, I think someone's planning something. For some time now, I've felt this pull, know what I mean? Nah, of course you don't. Like um . . . a rivalry or something, you know?"

"Think it's Cronus?" asked Alex, confused Ares would share this with him.

"Not really, no. This is something new and . . . foreign."

"So it beat immigration?" Alex laughed.

"Any more of that tasteless speech and I'll skewer you to a drakon and send you riding into Chaos."

"Yes, Sir," Alex straightened.

"Well, you certainly have proven yourself. I'll need you to keep an eye out, son," Ares tapped his back. "And here," he opened a large palm and there appeared a black spear, its tip red and its form buzzing with electricity.

"Wow, cool!" Alex grabbed it. "Thanks. Complete redesign," he admired it in the sunlight.

"You've earned it. Now where's that Clarisse?" the god's hands became fists and he stormed off, muttering, "Damn counselor who can't even - wait till I get my hands on her."

Alex barely had time to laugh before a throat cleared behind him. He turned. "Athena."

"I heard you saved my daughter from the Halicarnassan."

"No, not really. We worked together."

"I see. You know, there aren't many sons of Ares I can call worthy of Olympus. But you seem to be an exception. It may be too early but I see in you what I think the rest of Olympus sees . . ."

"In Percy Jackson? But you hate Percy; that's no secret."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Well, if that's all I should probably get going." Alex turned and headed towards Cabin 5.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or HO.

Kindly read and review. Flames allowed, and I sincerely, truly hope you enjoy it!

Mithras 3

The attack at camp made no sense at all. The demigods thought the Olympians were here just to survey the damage. What they didn't know was that the force behind the attack had triggered the kind of alarm the gods hadn't felt in centuries. This wasn't like Cronus. This was something else. Something off the grid. As she stood on the debris of the cabin her Hunters occupied when at camp, Artemis tried to place her finger on it, but the more she tried the more it seemed to slip away. She raised a pale face and took in her surroundings. Alex was strutting over to his rowdy cabin, a new, black spear in hand. Probably a gift for his bravery. He seemed to have walked away from Athena who was staring after him, evidently perplexed by whatever had just happened between the pair of them. Priceless: the only way to describe her expression. Artemis looked back at Alex. He was quite tall - normal for a son of Ares - and well-built. His muscles were not very large but they looked quite sharp. His mother must be beautiful, for something else had taken away that crazy-soldier expression the sons of Ares wore when impassive. A curious boy. Rather like that Percy Jackson. Artemis smiled. She'd heard Percy had got knocked into a fountain and had passed out cold. Disappointing for him, surely. Artemis observed Chiron moving from spot to spot, assessing the damage. Hera spotted him and trotted over, starting one of those long complaints only Zeus could handle. Looking at how much damage had been done, this Artemisia must have been a very potent foe. Her body must be preserved. Artemis made her way to the Armoury where she knew the body had been put by some campers. She pushed open the door and light fell into the dark room.

"Hey, who's fucking with my - oh, dear gods, I'm sorry," the frightened boy apologised, but Artemis wasn't interested in him.

"What's that?" she pointed at the gadget on the floor. It looked like a unit composed of randomly assembled parts.

"Oh, this?" the elven boy shot upright, finding confidence, "it's a device to provide light when it's dark."

"Hasn't that already been invented?" Artemis quizzed, disappointed.

"Oh, no, no. This one provides light! A lot of it so it's like you're out in the sun. You can see everything clearly! Kindly close the door and I'll show you."

"Okay," Artemis indulged the manic child.

"Thank you," he bowed slightly. "And . . ." he fiddled about with the tiny, complicated switches and dials, "HUZZAH!"

The room lit up so brightly Artemis had to shield her eyes from the piercing light for a couple of seconds. It was true; she could see everything in perfect detail. Everything. Then, a few minutes later, Artemis still enjoying this marvel, tzz-tzz-tzz. Sparks fizzled from the machine and the room was dark again.

"Oh, no! Oh, damn it! This'll only take a second," the boy said as he busied himself trying to fix his creation.

Artemis stared. He was quite amusing to watch. Moving this way and that, speaking absently to himself, quite like Daedalus. She'd almost forgotten why she was here. "Very interesting, tinker, could you show me where Artemisia is?"

"What? Oh, yeah . . ." he stood, scratching his head. "I'm actually supposed to be guarding the corpse," he laughed tentatively and picked up a short sword - or was that an oversized dagger? - from the floor. "Its right there at the back. Where the saws are," he pointed to some very battle-worthy mechanical saws stacked up against the corner. On a worktable, many dark patches to show where poorly aimed hammers had landed, was a figure shrouded in white cloth. There were many odd wires and bolts and screws and other mechanical pieces around the left rear leg of the table. Obviously it was not used to hosting dead evil warriors. Artemis passed a hand over the covered face, producing enough light to stare straight at the well-chiseled, young, pale face. No one had bothered to close the eyes. They were dark, staring uselessly at the moon goddess, pleading for mercy in death. Her lips were very nearly red. Strange for a Persian. Artemis wondered what could have drove this otherwise sane-looking woman to such rampage. What a waste.

"Excuse me, Lady . . . um . . . Artemis," the boy coughed her name out as though fearing consequences.

She turned.

"If it's an autopsy you're after, I've got the right thing to -"

"Oh, that's okay. I have no wish to look at her innards," she replied.

"Oh, I see," he found a place to sit, looking scandalised. "Name's Jeb, by the way. Jeb Wrench. Son of Hephaestus."

"Interesting," Artemis turned back to Artemisia. "Did you see her when she attacked?"

"Um, yeah. She actually burnt my sandwich. It was my snack break when she came. Arrow straight at my hand. Not even the cheese survived," he smiled like he'd made a great joke.

"Did she seem manipulated? Like she wasn't acting of her own accord?"

"Like she was being forced? Nah, she was kinda into it. Smiles and all. Scared the sh- sorry, life out of me," he concluded, then dug into his jeans pocket and produced a tiny vial.

"What's that?" Artemis asked, curious.

"Oh, just um . . . y'know, liquid that makes girls kind of woozy, y'know?"

"You use it to ensnare maidens?"

Clearly Jeb hadn't noticed her anger, because he kept on talking about how it could attract all kinds of women, from goddesses down to hags.

"Prepare to suffer for your crimes against maidens!"

"What, what're you - no, don't shoot! It doesn't draw them to me like, sexually! It makes them appreciate me! Don't shoot!" he covered his face with his hands.

"Still unpardonable, tinker!" Artemis was about to let fly when she heard a voice in her head: "Come quick, milady! Intruder! Ophiotaurus in danger!"

Sparing no breath for Jeb, she faded in a flash of silver. Artemis let two arrows fly and the Throne Room door exploded. She rushed in. Behind Zeus' throne was a dark haired man hacking wildly at Bessie's aquarium with a large hammer. The Ophiotaurus was lowing, frightened. He was clothed in a pair of black jeans and a trench coat. There were three dead Hunters on the floor. Doing her best to put the image out of mind, she aimed carefully at the stranger's neck. She pulled until the arrow was blue-hot, and released. He was fast. In an instant he was examining the arrow expertly with long fingers.

"I'm no fool, moon goddess." He got down to the floor and started walking towards Artemis ostentatiously. "I am much more than you can imagine."

"How did you get in here?" Artemis asked in spite of the overwhelming, vengeful desire welling up in her to promptly bury the freshly nocked arrow in his neck.

"Despite your efforts, you seem to face a bit of a security problem, my dear, or shall I say . . . milady?"

She released the arrow. He caught it with blinding speed. Another. Caught. He extended an arm and swung the hammer, letting fly. Artemis ducked and the projectile cracked Dionysus' throne.

"Mithras, by the way," the man said as the hammer vanished and a long, curved dagger appeared in his hand.

"I don't care." Artemis leapt at him with a pair of scimitars. Mithras stepped aside lazily and let her fall. She struck out with one blade but touched only thin air.

"Not used to melee combat, are you?" Mithras shook his head piteously. "Just quit it." He was leaning lazily against the pillar behind Zeus' seat.

Artemis let nine arrows fly in quick succession, all of which Mithras sent crashing to the ground with a simple dagger swipe, arrows falling with unceremonious clattering.

"Clearly you need a lesson. Let me educate you!" As he said it, a bow appeared in his hand. He nocked an arrow. It flew with such blinding, impossible speed that Artemis could only attempt a dive before it buried itself in her chest.

"Ah . . ." she groaned. Pulling the arrow out of her chest, she threw it aside. "Why didn't you face me arm-to-arm?"

"The arrow wasn't fatal. You're welcome to use your fist."

Artemis glanced at her chest. The wound had already healed. Swearing to break his face, she stood in the traditional Hunter pose. Mithras chuckled and balled his fists.

Artemis ran forward and launched herself into the air, aiming for his chest with a steady leg. Mithras caught her and slammed her against the pillar with such force that the construct shattered, a thousand pieces flying around. He picked her up with a hand and dealt three punches to her face, the last sending her flying halfway across the room. Artemis stood but he was there. He kicked her upward and she crashed into the ceiling before falling straight into the dagger Mithras pointed upwards. The pain was undescribable, exhausting. Then Mithras flung the dagger and Artemis across the room. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in this position. It was unfathomable. She'd defeated Atlas barely two years ago. She'd battled the beast Typhon along with the other Olympians. How could this . . . man . . . make her so . . . small?

"I can practically hear the words of disbelief going through your mind," Mithras' voice came closer and closer, "wondering how you could be so beaten? Anyway let's forget that. I'm wondering why you're keeping your endowments," Artemis felt the pain as a sharp object traced its way down from her neck, "to yourself," Mithras finished, ending his sharp, painful trace at her waist, right above her bottom. Artemis tried to attack, to punish his impudence, but Mithras must have done something to her because her limbs, her very muscles wouldn't obey her.

"I imagine this must be very embarrassing for you. Why, I could make you mine this instant," Mithras caressed her backside longingly. She could feel the beast awakening within him, and for the first time in eons she was afraid. Truly and properly scared. What if he . . . ? No! She refused to consider that possibility. He wouldn't! Would he?

"To be honest I expected you to be a greater challenge. I'm sure my equivalent will be more interesting to match. Until then I'll just slay the Ophiotaurus and be on my way." He advanced towards Bessie who thrashed and writhed wildly.

Where was everyone? Anyone! Apollo, Athena? No one? She could hear the glass cracking as Mithras slammed an unseen weapon unceasingly into the hard glass. There was a great metallic ripping sound as an immense, jagged crack made a course through the glass. There was a lot clanging and with great force, water rushed out. Mithras stood as the water that should have pushed him away many metres wound its way around him. Then there was a green flash as Bessie the Ophiotaurus roared and disappeared.

"What?" Mithras fumed. "What is this?"

"No doubt a failsafe," Artemis cackled. "The beast is now in Poseidon's lair. Beyond your reach."

"Nothing is beyond my reach! I am Mithras, a Roman god of war! My might surpasses yours!"

"Roman?" Artemis gasped.

"Surprised, _Graecus_? Don't be. This has been a long time coming. Hippolyta!"

Artemis was aware of a pair of heavy feet marching through the Throne Room to where Mithras was standing. She heard a few words exchanged, including 'Atlantis'. She'd unwittingly given away the Ophiotaurus to Mithras, seemingly on a silver platter.

"Well, my job here's done. Come, Artemis, let's go. I can't have you informing the other Olympians of my plan, can I?" Mithras held her by the shoulder and they disappeared in a blur of silver and black.

There it is, guys, hope you liked it. I especially want to hear your thoughts on the Mithras touching Artemis part.


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